grandson of President Edwards. He was appointed principal to one of
the branches of the Michigan State Institution, and they removed to
White Pigeon in Michigan, where Mr. Chaplin died in 1846, much beloved
and lamented. For five years his wife had lived with him in great
happiness, and she felt that he had only gone home a little before her.
In 1844 her son James graduated, and was ordered to Texas in Gen.
Worth’s regiment. He was at the battle of Palo Alto and Reseca, in all
the battles with Gen. Taylor excepting Buena Vista. At that time Gen.
Worth’s regiment was with Gen. Scott’s division. He was at the siege
of Vera Cruz and Cherubusco, at which time Gen. Scott mentions him in
his dispatches. At Molino del Rey he was severely wounded; the ball
entering the left breast passed under his arm, and was cut out from his
back. He received two brevets, making him _passed_ captain. Although
his father had been in eleven skirmishes and battles he had never lost
a drop of blood, but the son was less fortunate, and at twenty-three
nearly lost his life. It was six weeks after seeing his name published
among those who were severely wounded before his mother heard from him
direct, and during that time, her state of suspense was terrible. One
day as she left home for a walk, she noticed the stage approaching her
house, and as it was passing, Mr. Hazard put his head out and said,
“You had better go back, there is some one here you would like to see.”
She turned to go back, saw the stage stop, and her son get out, and
sank on her knees returning thanks to God that her eyes again beheld
him. He afterwards went to Texas with his regiment.
In 1849 Mrs. Chaplin travelled with her nephew, Major Hunt, and her
two nieces up the Mississippi to Fort Snelling. She found twenty-one
years had made great changes and great improvements; the party went in
a splendid steamboat, beautifully furnished, with table sumptuously
supplied, and either side of the river was dotted with cultivated
fields and large towns--the transformation seemed almost magical. When
they arrived at the Fort, she met an old friend in Col. Loomis, who was
very polite in taking her about the country that she might see all she
could in the short time they had to stay. She visited the grave of her
little daughter, and could decipher the name on the stone although much
defaced. The Colonel promised to have a new one put up. An old Indian
woman recognized her, saying she had seen her a long time ago, and she
was much delighted to find she had been remembered. She also went over
the house so long occupied by her family. On their return they stopped
at St. Paul’s, where the governor of the territory resides, and there
found a niece who had married Mr. Welsh of Michigan.
One of the passengers taken in at that place, in conversation with one
of the ladies, related the story of the murder of the Chippewas by
the Sioux after the treaty, and the punishment of the guilty persons,
with some fanciful embellishment, by way of exemplifying the Indian
traits of generosity and self-devotion, stating that the friend of one
of the culprits had offered himself a voluntary victim in his place,
the other being a married man, and that the innocent substitute had
been delivered up to the Chippewas by the commanding officer. His
strictures on the conduct of Col. Snelling were interrupted by a mild
rebuke from Mrs. Chaplin, who informed him the account he had given
of the transaction was incorrect. “You seem to speak knowingly on the
subject, madam,” said the stranger. “I should be happy to get the right
story.” “I was the wife of that commanding officer,” she replied, “and
remember well all the circumstances;” which she then related, and was
told by the gentleman that he was writing a book, “and had received the
story from a trader.” His experience in this instance might be a lesson
to those who rely on floating traditions unsupported by competent
authority.
Mrs. Chaplin is now happily at home with her daughter, Mrs. Hazard, and
resides in Cincinnati. Her life has been a chequered and eventful one,
and many sorrows have fallen to her lot; but these have been borne
with resignation and submission to the will of her Heavenly Father,
to whose guidance she committed her youth, and who has blessed her
with the enjoyment of the peace and prosperity won through a period of
hardship and distress. Her family connections are numerous, and a very
large circle of friends and acquaintances admire her talents and love
her virtues.
XIX.
MARY McMILLAN.
Lanman, the author of a pleasing History of Michigan, says it embraces
three epochs; the first a romantic one, extending to 1760, when the
dominion over the small portion of inhabited territory passed from
France to Great Britain. The earliest gleam of civilization at that
period had scarcely penetrated its forests, and the boat-songs of the
French furtraders, as they swept its lakes, alone awoke the echoes.
The second epoch may be called a military one. It commenced with
the Pontiac war, and extends through the struggles of the British,
Indians, and Americans to obtain undisputed possession of the country;
terminating with the victory of Commodore Perry, the defeat of Proctor,
etc. The third and last period comprises the enterprising, mechanical,
and working age of Michigan, commencing with the introduction of the
public lands into market; it is the epoch of agriculture, manufactures,
and commerce; the day of harbors, cities, canals, and railroads, in
which forests have been surveyed and cleared, streams and lakes covered
with sails, States founded, and their internal resources developed.
A few small settlements were made along the lakes at a very early
period. Sault Ste. Marie, like the other French posts, had a fort and
chapel in 1688, and was a favorite resort for traders and savages on
their way to the forests of Lake Superior, its settlers being a few
Indians, called the Salteurs, who lived by fishing in the rapids. A
goldsmith, who went there afterwards, wrought from the pure copper
found in that region, bracelets, candlesticks, crosses, and censers,
for sale among the savages. From time to time Jesuit missionaries were
sent from Quebec and Montreal to these distant posts, but they remained
without any organized colonial government, or any connected history,
forming a part of the Canadian domain, inhabited only by wandering
Indians or migrating traders, whose headquarters were at Montreal
or Quebec. The vast tracts extending from the St. Lawrence to the
Mississippi, fertile, and watered by noble streams, with inland seas
offering facilities for commerce, were thus wandered over by herds of
deer, elk, and buffalo, or tribes as wild as the beasts of the forest.
Baron La Hontan, who came at a very early period, says, describing Lake
Erie, “It is assuredly the finest on earth; its banks decked with oak
trees, elms, and chestnuts, entwined with vines bearing rich clusters
to their tops, and its forests abounding with turkeys, deer, and wild
beeves, frequented too by warlike hunters.” The French scattered along
the lake border, were there for the purpose of pushing the fur trade
into the Indian territory, and except the commandants at the posts,
were chiefly merchants engaged in this traffic. The coureurs des bois,
or, rangers of the woods, were often half-breeds, and were hardy
and skilled in propelling the canoe, fishing, hunting, or sending a
rifle-ball to the “right eye” of the buffalo. They procured cargoes of
furs from the Indians, and carried large packs of goods across portages
in the interior, by straps suspended from their foreheads or shoulders.
They were familiar with every rock and island, bay and shoal, of the
western waters. The ordinary dress of a Canadian furtrader, was a cloth
fastened about the middle, a loose shirt, a “molton” or blanket-coat,
a red worsted or leathern cap, and sometimes a surtout of coarse blue
cloth, and cap of the same material; elk-skin trowsers, with seams
adorned with fringe; a scarlet woollen sash tied round the waist, in
which a broad hunting-knife was stuck, and buck-skin moccasins. In
later years they wore a shirt of striped cotton, trowsers of cloth or
leather, leggins like the Indians, deer-skin moccasins, colored belt of
worsted, with knife and tobacco-pouch, and blue woollen cap with red
feather. The half breeds were demi-savage, and were employed as guides
or rangers, to manage the canoes in remote trading excursions. European
goods were exchanged for peltries, which were taken to the depôts on
the lakes, and thence transported eastward. The individuals who devoted
their attention to agriculture usually wore a long surtout and sash,
with red cap and deer-skin moccasins, while the gentlemen visiting
the country preserved the garb in vogue in the days of Louis XIV.
Agriculture was then limited to a few patches of corn and wheat, the
grain being ground in wind-mills. The French soldiers, with their blue
coats turned up with white facings, and short-clothes, and the priests
with their long gowns and black bands, who had their stations near the
forts, formed a strong contrast in their appearance to the Indians who
loitered around the posts.[39]
The women made coarse cotton and woollen garments for the Indian
traders. The amusements were chiefly dancing to the violin, and hunting
in the forests; to which may be added the observance of the festivals
enjoined by the church. Fishing was a constant occupation; canoes
passed in every direction over the streams and bays, and the varieties
of fish now esteemed so delicious, were taken in great abundance, and
formed a principal article of food. The social condition of these
primitive inhabitants was not as civilized as in the larger colonial
settlements; the humble emigrants went out with their tents, their
axes, their hoes, their stores of ammunition and provisions, and their
cattle, to win a subsistence by hard labor, and had little regard
to the amenities which are the growth of a settled community. The
priests had much influence, and frequently was the lonely altar, with
its rude candlesticks and censers carved from native copper, erected
under the forest boughs, surrounded by savages in the wild costume
of their tribes, deer or buffalo skins, with the cincture of the war
eagle on their heads, their necklaces of bear’s claws, and moccasins
embroidered with porcupine’s quills. The solemn chant went up amidst
the distant howling of wild beasts, and the solitary bark chapels,
adorned by no sculptured marble or golden lamps, but surmounted by
the rudely framed cross, looked out on a domain of prairie, lake, and
unbroken forest; yet was the wealth of art surpassed:
“Iris all hues; roses and jessamines
Reared high their flourished heads between, and wrought
Mosaic; under foot the violet,
Crocus, and hyacinth, with rich inlay,
Broidered the ground, more colored than with stones
Of costliest emblem.”
A volume might be written upon the Indian mythology of the lakes.
Each rock, island, lake, river, wood and cataract along the shores of
Michigan, had its presiding genius, good or evil; legends peopled the
earth and air, spirits floated through the forests and danced along the
streams; manitous of darkness performed their orgies in the storms, and
the islands abounded with golden sands watched like the fleece of old,
by serpents, birds of prey, and mighty giants. To these, sacrifices of
tobacco pipes and other offerings were continually presented. In 1721,
Charlevoix was informed that Michabout was the manitou of the lakes,
and the island of Michilimackinac his birth-place. The name of this
island signifies “a great turtle,” from its resemblance to one, or in
the Chippewa speech, “the place of giant fairies.” This deity, it is
said, created Lake Superior that his Indians might catch beaver; and
the savages believe the fragments of rock at the Sault and other rapids
are remains of the causeway constructed by him to dam up the waters.
The social condition of the settlers of Michigan was not much improved
by the transfer of the country from the French to the British
government. By the capitulation of Montreal, the French subjects were
permitted to remain, and the fur trade was prosecuted by their agency
under English companies. Till 1762 the peninsula remained quiet,
while war raged at a distance; but the war of the Pontiac confederacy
soon carried disturbance to its borders. The details of this period
belong to history. It is proper merely to mention the plot by which
this famous Indian chief aimed to destroy the fort of Detroit. He had
ordered his Indians to saw off their rifles, conceal them under their
blankets, and gain admission to the fort under pretence of holding a
peaceable council. On a signal given by his delivering a belt of wampum
in a specified manner, the savages were to rush on the soldiers, and
fling open the gates to the body of warriors on the outside. Word was
then sent to Major Gladwyn that Pontiac would hold a council with the
English commander on the 9th of May, 1763. The evening before, an
Indian woman employed by the Major to make some elk-skin moccasins,
brought them to the fort. Gladwyn, pleased with her work, bespoke more,
and having paid her for the first, sent a servant to see her safely
through the gates. Here she lingered, looking wistfully at the river,
and her behavior appearing singular, the servant asked the cause of
her delay, but received no answer. The commanding officer then called
her in, and asked why she hesitated, when, calling to mind his former
kindness, the woman said she would not take away the skin, as she would
not be able to bring it back. This remark exciting suspicion, she was
induced by promises of safety and reward, to reveal the whole plot. The
officers thought it a trick, but the night was spent in preparation;
guards were placed on the ramparts, and every man was ready for
defence. Their suspicions were confirmed by the distant sounds heard of
the war-songs and dances of the Indians. In the morning Pontiac came
with his chiefs and braves to the council-house, and was received by
the Major and officers. The appearance of warlike preparation could not
escape the Indians, and when they were seated on the skins, Pontiac
asked the cause, which he was told was the necessity of military
discipline. He professed much friendship for the English in his speech,
but his gestures became violent as he approached the point when he
was to give the concerted signal. The officers drew their swords, the
soldiers at the doors clattered their arms, and as the chief presented
the belt in his usual manner, thus failing to give the signal, the
Major accused him of being a traitor, and pulling aside his blanket,
showed his rifle. The Indians were ordered to quit the fort instantly,
being assured of safety beyond the pickets, and were received by the
warriors without with yells and firing, and other demonstrations of
hostility towards the garrison, the more fierce on account of the
failure of the enterprise.
During the Revolutionary struggle the peninsula remained in comparative
quiet. Although constituting a part of the Canadian territory, a
magazine of arms for the savage allies of the loyalists, and a mart
where scalps were bought and sold, it can boast no prominent events to
give interest to its history, because not made the theatre of action.
A mere outpost of Canada, it was a magnificent extent of wilderness,
in which the axe had scarcely felled a tree; trackless, save where
Indian trails wound through the dense forests and flowery oaklands;
unbroken, except by scattered Indian villages and corn-fields studding
the prairies, or the solitary posts of furtraders. The treaty of 1783
included the peninsula within the bounds of American territory. At
this time its sparse white population consisted chiefly of French and
English, whose settlements were confined to the vicinity of trading
posts along the lakes and the banks of the principal rivers. When the
ravages of the savage tribes on the frontier were terminated by the
victories of Gen. Wayne and the treaty in 1795, the tide of emigration
began to flow more steadily westward. Michigan was erected into a
separate territory in 1805, but the progress of settlement was slow,
and the principal business carried on was still the fur trade.
In 1810 the island of Mackinaw, a romantic point, rising like an altar
from the realm of waters, was the central mart of traffic, and the
lakes were sprinkled with canoes of traders and Indians; the merry
Canadian voyageur bartering his trinkets at booths scattered along the
shores, and the red warrior with his fantastic ornaments, his silver
armlets and embroidered moccasins, coming to exchange his treasures, or
on fishing and hunting excursions. The fur merchants went up the lakes
in large canoes, manned by Canadians, to meet their agents returning
from the remote wilderness at Fort William, one of the principal
pioneer posts of the northwest country. The council house was a large
wooden building, hung with trophies of the chase, and Indian implements
of war or peaceful employment. Thus the romantic aspect of the country
had not yet disappeared, though the post was crowded with traders,
and the epoch of mercantile enterprise was in its meridian. The
semi-barbarous dominion exercised for a century over the lakes and the
region on their borders, had not yet been swept away even by the wings
of commerce.
The war of 1812 was a crisis which brought renewed devastations upon
the frontier, and the borders were overrun by the British and their
savage allies. Although, by act of Congress in May of this year, two
millions of acres were ordered to be surveyed, little inducement was
held out to emigrants to penetrate a remote wilderness, through which
there were no roads, and as late as 1820 Detroit, Frenchtown, Mackinaw,
and Sault Ste. Marie, were the chief settlements within the present
limits of the State. When, some time afterwards, expeditions were
projected for exploring the country, the interior was yet a ranging
ground for savages and wild beasts, intersected by Indian trails, with
here and there, by the lakes or streams, a few clusters of log houses,
or the huts of Frenchmen; the roads constructed in 1823 scarcely
passable in the most favorable season. Gradually, however, the forest
began to resound with the huntsman’s axe, and the log tenements of
the hardy pioneers to stud the wilderness. The social progress of
the territory was not marked by any stirring events. The advance of
emigration along its rivers was solitary and silent; the cannon and
bayonet had long since given place to the plough and the woodman’s
axe, and the subjugation of the wild forest was achieved without the
necessity of disputing possession of the soil with human foes. The
emigrants scattered themselves by degrees over the interior, finding
a dry and fertile soil, well adapted for culture, and a country rich
in varied and picturesque scenery. The lake-like and rolling prairies,
with their wooded islands and forest borders, were beautiful beyond
description; the white oak openings were like stately parks enamelled
with flowers, and the burr-oak groves like orchards studded with large
pear trees. The mounds rose from thirty or forty to two hundred feet,
and hill and dale, secluded lake and forest tract, with its dense
growth of beech, black walnut, elm, maple, hickory, oaks of different
kinds, etc., its luxuriant wild grape vines and rich underwood,
presented scenes that might well captivate the new comers. One by one,
or in small numbers, wagons bearing the families of the pioneers,
with their furniture, might be seen winding over the rough roads or
along the shores; then smoke rose curling through the woods from the
prostrate trunks of smouldering trees; the settler having cleared a
small space, built his log house, while his cattle fed on the luxuriant
herbage in the vicinity; the labors of the plough followed those of the
axe, the winter was weathered through, and the succeeding year saw him
an independent freeholder, with a market at his door for the produce of
his farm.
Mrs. McMillan was among the early settlers of the eastern portion of
Michigan. Her removal with husband and children from a populous and
cultivated region, was a laborious journey, performed in the manner
above mentioned, in a small wagon, laden with a few necessary articles
of comfort for their new home; by slow and toilsome stages--their
nights being passed under some temporary shelter, insufficiently
protected from the attacks of wild beasts, and subject to inconvenience
from night dews, cold winds, and troublesome insects. Their
establishment was attended with the same circumstances of labor and
hardship, which have been described in numerous other cases. We pass to
some incidents that may serve to illustrate the times, as well as show
the courage and energy of this strong-hearted matron.
In 1813 she was living on the Canada side, in a small house on the
banks of the Thames, a beautiful little river whose bright waters were
often skimmed by canoes of savages intent on plunder or slaughter,
the shrill war-whoop often resounding from the depths of the woods.
McMillan had left his family to enter into active military service,
and their home was two miles distant from the nearest neighbor. The
country had been kept in a continual state of alarm by marauding
parties of Indians, who did not hesitate to kill and capture, as well
as rob the defenceless settlers. Mrs. McMillan suffered the more from
anxiety at this critical period, as in the absence of her husband
the care of their young children devolved entirely upon her, and her
sole protection was her own prudence and energy. One day having heard
rumors of the approach of a hostile party, and being apprehensive of
a sudden attack, she took her infant and walked to the nearest house
in search of information. There she was startled with the intelligence
that savages had been seen in the vicinity, and that they had gone
in the direction of her dwelling, where they would probably stop
during the day. The matron thought of the little ones she had left
at home unprotected, and a sickening terror entered her heart. She
stayed to hear no more, but hastened homeward, bearing in her arms the
unconscious babe who might now be all that remained to her. As she
came near, her eyes were eagerly strained for a sight of those beloved
ones who were accustomed to run to meet her; all was silence; and when
she dashed open the door and stood within the dwelling, a scene of
desolation met her view! Every article of furniture had disappeared;
the floor was dusty with the track of footsteps, and not one of her
children was anywhere on the premises.
The alarm and anguish of the mother may be better imagined than
described. The fatal idea had flashed at once on her mind, that her
little ones had been either murdered or carried away captive by the
merciless Indians. In this terrible emergency she lost none of her
self-possession, nor her usual sagacity of judgment. The savages could
not have gone far, and her only course was to cross the river and seek
aid immediately. But there was no canoe, nor mode of conveyance; she
could not swim, nor could she leave her helpless infant behind her. She
was not long in discovering a way to overcome the difficulty. Hastily
rolling some logs into the water, she placed two boards across them,
forming a kind of raft, on which she stepped cautiously, carrying her
babe, managed to hold the frail craft together while she guided its
course, and reached the opposite shore in safety. Here her terror
and anguish were suddenly changed into joy; the children had heard
of the near approach of Indians immediately after their mother’s
departure, and having taken the precaution to put the furniture in the
cellar, out of the intruders’ way, they had crossed the river to seek
protection from the neighbors on the other side.